


Stronger Together - A Jack Has DID Oneshot

by Skylar1336



Series: Jack Has DID Universe [5]
Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Happy Ending?, I've been wanting to write this one forever, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Restraints, Self-harm Warning, This Is Sad, anti tries his best, did, he really does, mentions of pain, please read the story first, really hope you like it, sympathetic!antisepticeye, this is a spinoff oneshot, trigger warning, turned out way longer than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar1336/pseuds/Skylar1336
Summary: Anti's been struggling more and more lately. One mistake seems to lead to another. He thought he could be a protector, but some of the others don't. There is someone that's always there for him, though, in more ways than one.
Relationships: Antisepticeye & Jameson Jackson, Jameson Jackson/Dr. Schneeplestein
Series: Jack Has DID Universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646029
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44





	Stronger Together - A Jack Has DID Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so sorry for how long this has taken. Especially since I've been so thrilled to write this one since the series began. Please know how truly sorry I am to you all. The past few days have been very tough for me mentally and emotionally. I'm glad I finally got this out to you all, and I really hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Trigger warnings: Self harm, yelling, blood, scars, tears, discretion advised.

“It’s not going well, is it?” Jack’s voice was taut with worry as he placed his dishes into the sink.  
_I’M GOING TO FRONT, JACK. I DON’T WANT TO. NOT RIGHT NOW._  
“Anti, breathe.” The Irishman took a deep breath of his own. “Just hang on. I’m going there now.” He turned and left the kitchen, walking briskly back towards his bedroom.  
“Are you sure you want this? I don’t like it, it feels wrong.”  
_WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS. YOU PROMISED._ The voice was hoarse, desperate. _I DON’T TRUST MYSELF IN THE BODY YET._  
“Okay. Don’t worry.” Jack entered his bedroom, turning and closing the door. He walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge, opening the drawer beside it. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  
“I promised,” he agreed as he cuffed his wrists, “but I still don’t like it.” He turned and attached the open handcuff of his left hand to the headboard behind him. He did the same with his right and laid there, head pounding.  
His vision was blurring slightly; his eye was twitching like crazy. He could feel Anti very close to the front. Then everything went black.

Anti opened his eyes, blinking quickly and looking around. He moved to sit up and found his hands restricted by the cuffs. Jack had used leather ones, despite Anti’s wish for the tougher metal alternative. He tugged experimentally; they didn’t give. The alter took a deep breath and tried to think of something else. _Anything_ else.  
It didn’t work. He could hear the voices in his head, the ones telling him everything he already knew. He was worthless. He was nothing. He used to be a persecutor, and now he wasn’t even that anymore.  
He thought he could be a protector, but the voices told him no. He could never be anything that would help Jack, or anyone in the system for that matter. An utterly useless alter. What was worse than that?  
Anti could feel tears rolling down his cheeks. He tugged at the cuffs again; they still didn’t budge. He tugged harder, then harder, feeling the rough leather chafe the skin on his wrists and rub them raw. He found he liked it.  
Sitting up as much as he could, he began to put all his weight into pulling on his right arm, watching the leather cuff strain underneath it, screaming as it cut into his skin. With an excruciatingly tug, his hand broke free. It fell onto the bed, bleeding slowly. He did the same with the other one, tugging and heaving until his hand came loose. The pain was like fire; he brushed a thumb across his wrist and nearly sobbed.  
Those voices were still there, though. They were in his head, from years and years of memories, and they _hurt._ He could never get them out. He could quiet them, though. At least for a little while.  
Wrists stinging, chest heaving, he pushed himself up off of the bed and headed for the kitchen.

Jack woke up to a painfully stinging sensation on his arms. He looked down and saw the blood that dripped from a multitude of small, straight cuts. He was standing in the kitchen; the knife was in his hand.  
He felt like crying. When he reached up he could feel that his eyes were already puffy, his face already tear-stained.  
Wincing, trying his best to ignore the pain, he placed the knife on the kitchen counter. And he went to fetch some bandages.

“You hurt the body? I should’ve known you couldn’t be trusted.”  
They were in JJ’s room. Anti was sitting on the edge of the bed; JJ sat cross-legged beside him. Chase was standing in front of the bed. His voice was venomous. He was staring at Anti so angrily that in that moment Anti knew the American had never ever really stopped hating him.  
“I didn’t…” Anti closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I had to make them stop.”  
“Make who stop?”  
“The voices.” His own voice was trembling slightly. JJ reached out and softly placed his hand on top of Anti’s. “Telling me I’m bad. That I’m worthless. It’s the only way to make them stop.”  
Chase’s lip curled. “Maybe the voices were right.” He turned and left without another word.  
Anti’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He felt that feeling in his chest. When it got so tight, because he was so sad, and empty, and alone. He began to cry, heart wrenching sobs that he hated even more because they were silent. His whole body shook with them.  
He felt JJ’s hands, surprisingly strong, pull him close and wrap around him. Anti could’ve pushed him away. Instead he turned and buried his face in the Brit’s chest and sobbed.  
JJ held him close, keeping relatively still. Every once in a while his hand would softly rub his back. He was just _there._ Anti had never felt anything like it.  
It took the Irish alter a long time to calm down, but eventually he did. He pulled away from JJ, face stiff from dried tears. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “He’s right.” he whispered.  
JJ shook his head. His hands, exceedingly gentle, came up to cup his cheeks. He gave Anti a soft smile.  
For as much as Anti used to despise the Brit, he now couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were before. He was the only one Anti felt truly safe around.  
He took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself back into JJ’s hold. JJ lightly ran his fingers through Anti’s hair; they stayed that way until falling asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was still in bed. He must’ve slept through the night, but he had never felt more tired.  
His hands came up to rub his eyes. As he sat up on the mattress, he spread his arms out wide in a stretch, a quiet gasp escaping his lips as he yawned.  
His eyes flew open. He looked around the room; it was empty. Quietly, shakily, he whispered a few words. His heart was pounding. He could _talk._ In the next moment his brain did a complete one-eighty, sending him reeling once more. Of course he could talk. He’d always been able to talk. He’d talked just the day before, when Chase had been yelling at him in JJ’s bed-  
Oh.  
It was making his head hurt, the memory, thinking it through, because he remembered last night from two different perspectives. He was Anti, crying and breaking down and sobbing into JJ’s chest the second Chase left the room. And… he was JJ, too, pulling Anti close and stroking his hair and soothing him to sleep.  
He was _both_ of them. And he was more.  
Before he could process everything he was feeling, the door burst open, revealing Chase and his doc- the doctor. Schneeplestein. A pang of confusion swept over him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the doctor. From JJ, he had extremely fond memories of the German. From Anti, it was far more complicated.  
“Where is he?” Chase demanded. “Where is that bastard?”  
“Chase-” the doctor began, placing a hand on his shoulder, but Chase shrugged him off.  
He looked up, biting his lip.  
“Where’s Anti?” Chase demanded. “Did you let him stay here?”  
“Damn it, Chase, calm down!” the German snapped. “I will not have you come here and address him like that. You know better, _ja_?”  
Chase took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the man in the bed. “Well?”  
He found he couldn’t speak. This was different, however, than how it used to be. It felt different; it was a feeling that, he remembered from his time as Anti, left him speechless for a separate reason entirely. It was fear. Panic. He couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.  
“JJ.” The doctor’s voice was exceedingly gentle as he sat beside him on the bed. “It’s okay. You can tell us where he is.”  
The man swallowed the lump in his throat and contemplated the best way to tell the German that he was right _here._ He opened his mouth, then closed it, worried of the reaction he’d receive from a spoken word, and unsure that he could even presently utter a sound regardless.  
With trembling hands he reached up and began to sign. A cupped hand pressed against his chest and slid down his torso, the letter ‘a’ with the thumb placed under his chin, and finally the sign for the letter ‘j.’  
‘I am not JJ.’  
The doctor frowned. “What are you talking about?”  
The man was still, eyes fixed on the bedsheets in front of him.  
Chase rolled his eyes. “I can’t do this right now.” he said, gritting his teeth. “Find me if he feels like answering.” He stormed out of the room before the doctor could respond.  
“JJ-” the German began again, placing a hand on top of his.  
He pulled it away, chest heaving. His feelings were a mess, his two sets of memories in such contrast that it made his head spin. He could help but feel a little guilty at the look the doctor gave him in return.  
“Just talk to me.” he said softly. “We have always been able to do that, _ja_? Talk to me.”  
He took a deep breath, wetting his lips and closing his eyes. “I’m not… JJ.” His British accent caught him off guard; he’d known he had it (well, JJ had) but he couldn’t remember ever hearing it.  
When he looked up, he could see the German was shocked as well. “You… can talk?” he whispered.  
He gave a silent nod.  
“Can you tell me where Anti is?”  
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Talking made him feel strange. He raised both hands in front of him, pointing down to the ground, and moved them slightly.  
“Here?” the doctor translated doubtfully.  
He nodded again, hesitating, then pointed at his chest. ‘Me.’  
“I don’t understand.” The doctor was looking wary now. “You’re Anti? I didn’t know you could… change shape.” He looked up in sudden realization. “What did you do with JJ?” he demanded.  
“No-” He spoke again, desperate to get him to understand. ‘ _Both._ ’ he signed emphatically.  
Finally, he saw understanding shining in the German’s eyes. “You’re both of them?” he said quietly. “When did this happen?”  
‘Overnight.’ he replied. To his horror, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. ‘I feel so lost.’  
The doctor leaned towards him, then paused. “Do you… feel ze same about me?” he asked.  
He was silent for a moment. Did he? From his memories he remembered the German both very fondly and very harshly. Looking at him right now, however, with his glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose, tufts of hair peeking out from beneath his cap, those eyes meeting his with such vulnerability, he knew that still held the doctor close to his heart. He nodded.  
The German’s gaze changed to first relief, then sympathy as the man began to cry silently in front of him. His shoulders shook with the sobs. Hands shaking, he managed to sign, ‘I don’t know who I am anymore...’  
With gentle arms, the doctor - _his_ doctor - gathered him close, holding him in a silent promise that everything would be alright.

“-integration, yes.”  
He swallowed hard, looking around the room. He was in the therapist’s office. Dr. Jeffrey was sitting in front of him; he felt strangely nervous. He’d never actually met the man face-to-face.  
Jeffrey looked up at him, eyes narrowing. “I don’t believe I’m talking to Jack anymore, am I?”  
He shook his head.  
The therapist gave him a kind smile as he rubbed his eye. “You wouldn’t happen to be the integrated alter, would you?”  
He bit his lip. ‘Integrated?’ He spelled it out; he didn’t even know if there was a sign for it. He’d never heard of the word before.  
Dr. Jeffrey dipped his head in agreement. “I believe, from what Jack was telling me earlier, it’s what happened to you.” He glanced down at his clipboard. “Anti and Jameson. Do you have their memories?”  
He nodded shakily. ‘What happened? What’s… I-N-T-E-G-R-A-T-I-O-N?’  
Jeffrey crossed his legs, brow furrowed in thought. “As you are probably aware, one of the basic qualities of DID is amnesia. The brain puts up these amnesic walls to protect the child from harmful memories. I understand Anti and JJ were both trauma holders?”  
Another nod.  
“Well, the easiest way to put this is like so.” Jeffrey pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Amnesic walls exist to protect. New alters, and therefore new walls, are formed when the brain deems it necessary. This can happen even into adulthood. However, there are times when the brain sees a wall as no longer necessary. And it removes it.”  
He brought his fingertips to his head, touching it, then brought the hand down into the sign for ‘y.’  
“A number of reasons.” the therapist replied. “The main ones are quite different. One is because the alters can now handle the information and process it better. They… heal, in a sense. The brain realizes they are ready for the trauma that the amnesic walls hide away. The opposite is, of course, that alters can become unable to cope with their trauma and their lives. This defeats the purpose of the amnesia, as you could see, so again, the brain… removes it.”  
He looked down at his hands, laced together in his lap. “So…” His voice came out weak, but audible.  
“So,” Jeffrey sighed, “it seems that the ‘wall’ between the two trauma holders was removed. JJ and Anti don’t exist anymore, not in the sense they used to. You are both of them, in a way, but you’re also more.” He tilted his head. “I don’t suppose you’ve considered what name you’d like to go by?”  
He shook his head. He considered what the therapist had told him. As strange as it sounded, he couldn’t disagree. It made sense. He was Anti, and he was JJ. And yet, he was an entirely different person. A _new_ person. Neither of those names seemed to fit him quite right anymore.  
He began to sign slowly - speaking still felt foreign to him - just four letters. ‘J-A-M-I.’  
“Jami?” Dr. Jeffrey nodded, smiling. “A nice in-between, I think.”  
The new alter allowed himself to smile as well. ‘What happens now?’ he asked, feeling unsure.  
“That’s up to you. This integration happened for a reason. Many times, an integrated alter feels negative emotions about their past selves. Guilt, hatred, embarrassment. But there are good feelings too. And hopefully, the integration will result in a stronger alter.”  
Jami (he found he quite liked the name) sighed. He did have negative feelings. Anti had done a lot of bad things. But he’d begun to make up for it. Though he wasn’t willing to share this with Dr. Jeffrey, not yet anyways, he had a feeling that the integration was a result of the second reason. He remembered how helpless he’d felt as Anti. As though nothing he did was right.  
He was sure he’d still have a lot to answer for. Chase was guaranteed to be nothing but angry; he could see the American’s perspective, that Anti had taken JJ away. Jack and his doctor understood, however. The thought made him glad.  
No matter what happened, Jami was sure Dr. Jeffrey was right. The integration had happened for a reason. JJ had always been there for Anti, and now he always would be.  
They were stronger together than apart, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't make it into the story, but I designed this so I wanna share it :) 
> 
> Canon physical description of Jami: British accent. No scar/cut on his throat, but scars on his arms. His face is clear of scars as well. He has the same style mustache, albeit slightly smaller. He still glitches like Anti, but rarer and, like you saw, he's more capable of speaking but prefers sign language instead.
> 
> I really like Jami <3 Hope y'all did too.


End file.
